take what you need
by professortennant
Summary: Post 5.07. Jean is angry and fed-up and worked up. So she takes what she needs from Lucien and leaves him hanging. Smut.


"I love you, you know that, don't you?"

She grit her teeth, jaw tensing, and shook her head. "No, you don't get to say that. Not now." The anger that had been bubbling up inside her all day seemed to be ready to erupt–every insecurity, every concern, every fear all rolling under the surface, exacerbated by his actions and _The Courier's_ article.

"Jean," he protested, looking hurt. He made as if to stand up but Jean didn't want him towering over her; she was in control. She walked around the desk and pushed him back down, forcing him to sit. He fell back into the chair with a soft _oomph_ and looked up at her, surprised.

The anger was flowing through her, rushing through her veins and filling her with heat. She surprised herself when she noticed the flickers of desire and arousal also curling low in her belly.

Lucien made so many of the decisions that guided their relationship–the affidavit and following her to Adelaide, to name a few. But now she was in charge, she was going to take what she wanted–damn him and Ballarat.

She leaned over him, threading her fingers through his hair and grabbing a handful, tugging his head back and exposing his neck to her. Lucien whimpered low in his throat and looked at her with wide, dark eyes. "Jean, love, I–"

But she cut his words off with a bruising kiss–all passion and heat. She slid her open mouth over his lips, tongue dipping into his mouth and sweeping over the roof of his mouth, feeling him shudder in her grip. Jean broke the kiss and tightened her hold on his hair. "No talking. Not now."

She straddled him, knees on either side of his hip and she settled down on his lap, rocking and rolling her hips, coaxing his erection to life. Lucien gripped her hips, groaning. "Jean–"

Jean punished him by sinking her teeth into the place where his neck and shoulder met. Her tongue swirled over the bite and then she was turning her head into his neck, nipping at the straining tendons.

"Stop." She dragged her teeth over his skin. "Talking." Another kiss to the underside of his jaw.

She took his hand from her hip and placed it on her breast. "Touch me," she hissed out. Lucien keened like she was torturing him and he set to work massaging her breast, squeezing and palming the flesh. Jean sighed and pushed herself into his palm.

The heat was rolling through her now–desire and arousal flooding her senses. She needed _friction._ His erection was now tenting the front of his trousers and she rocked forward, rubbing her center over his hardness. Each twitch of her hips forced his erection to press against her clit–even through his trousers and her undergarments she could feel searing heat.

She threw her head back, riding him and seeking out her own pleasure. This wasn't about him–this was for _her_.

"Jean, please, _please_ , let me touch you more, please. Please, love."

The sound of him begging sent another spike of pleasure through her. After years of being his employee, after being _promised_ that she was his equal and finding herself once again just his housekeeper, the sound of Lucien asking her for permission felt right. She was powerful and in control.

She needed to kiss him again, needed to feel him gasping in to her mouth and needed to swallow each of his little sounds, storing them away for herself. He belonged to her and he needed to be reminded.

His mouth was hot and desperate beneath hers, yielding to her every touch. She sucked lightly on his tongue and Lucien's hips jerked upwards in response, the blunt head of his cock so, so close to pressing inside her. If they hadn't been clothed, he would be buried deep inside her.

The thought sent another wave of pleasure through her–the thrill of taking exactly what she waned without the weight of Catholic guilt or fear on her shoulders.

She widened her straddle and sunk lower, the speed of her hips picking up as she rocked, rocked, rocked upon his hardness, each roll bringing her closer and closer to the edge.

But it wasn't enough. She needed more _pressure_. The thought of fucking him here appealed to her, briefly–to hell with propriety and marriage. But she couldn't let their first time be in anger.

"Lucien," she commanded, breathless. "Touch me."

Obediently, he reached up, planting kisses along her neck. "Where, love? Where?"

She took his hand and placed it between her legs, shuddering as he cupped her through her trousers. There was no shame here. She knew he would feel her desire for him–damp, hot fabric.

He looked at her, eyes filled with desire and wonder. "Jean, you're so beautiful. Thank you. _Thank you_." The groveling, the gratitude, it all went straight to her core and she braced herself on his shoulders, pressing down into his hand.

Lucien's fingers and palm was a better source of friction and hardness and she rocked harder against him, his fingers curling and stroking over her center. She was so, so close.

Without her direction, Lucien seemed to know she needed just a little bit more to push her over the edge, tumbling into the abyss of pleasure. His thumb reached up and _pressed_ right against her clitoris and she climaxed, crying out and then messily kissing him, her cries muffled into his mouth.

When she came down from her high, she sat and trembled in his arms for a moment, the aftershocks of her orgasm crashing through her still. Lucien held her against him, his erection still straining against the front of his trousers.

Slowly she stood and dragged a teasing hand down the front of his trousers, enjoying the sound of his hiss as her hand passed over the sensitive flesh of his cock. "Jean!"

But she shook her head, standing up fully and straightening her blouse and smoothing the wrinkles in her trousers. Her undergarments were uncomfortably wet and she knew when she'd change into her night clothes, the smell of her own arousal and sex would be evident.

She stepped back from him and tucked an errant stray of hair behind her ear. "We'll discuss this in the morning, Lucien."

And leaving him alone with his unattended erection, not sparing him another look, she left him behind in his study, panting and wanting. For once, she got exactly what she needed.


End file.
